


i'm supposed to apologize?

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Series: Dark FemSlash Week [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Abuse, Age Difference, Boss/Employee Relationship, Canon Typical Weirdness, Character Study, Dark femslash week, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Manipulation, Neglect, Obsession, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Rating May Change, Stalking, lying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-02 23:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16314965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: Day 4: Stalking/ObsessionShe's her partner, she should know these things.





	1. Abuse/Betrayal - Gertrude/Mary

**Author's Note:**

> Another Thing I Don't Have Time To Do And Yet
> 
> this is sort of a slowball to start and also i've wanted to write gertrude for a while 
> 
> not beta'd

Gertrude is surprised to receive the invitation.  
  
Handwritten, wax seal, all very official business. Michael hovers in the doorway, obviously curious and she lets him stare.  
  
Usually, whenever Mary wanted something from her she'd come by on her own, they'd have a chat, and she would leave. Their relationship was barely more than transnational lately. Gertrude didn't mind any, she had more important work than dealing with a neurotic zealot to a power she had already sorted. The distraction was nice if nothing else.  
  
She stands up and smooths her dress down, and Michael steps out of the doorway for her.  
  
“Do you know where Elias is?”  
  
“Office I think. Do you need me to go with you? O-Or one of the others.”  
  
“I'm alright. Go tell Mr. Bouchard I'm taking the day off to go visit a friend.”  
  
“Oh- it's not work?”  
  
“Michael.”  
  
“Right, s-sorry Ms. Robinson. I'll just- Elias.”  
  
She sighs. Not much longer left to wait for peace and quiet. Just another month or so. There would be the entire boat ride of course, but maybe she can could kill two birds with one stone and make Michael talk to Lucas.  
  
She picks up her purse and heads out the door.  
  
Apparently, she has a date.

The train ride takes half an hour. She doesn't mind trains. They're good for clearing her mind, at least. The trip gave her more then enough time to think over exactly what Mary Keay could possibly bother sending a letter for.

Mary's apartment was as disgusting as she remembered it.  
  
Leitner's growing musty along the walls and flaps of skin hanging up to dry. Gertrude actually has to push past a few strings to make it to the kitchen where she finds her. The loud music that's become somewhat normal seems to be missing.  
  
“Is your son out?”  
  
Mary looks up, almost startled from her tea before turning and looking at her guest.  
  
“No- you didn't knock.”  
  
“The door was open.” She holds the letter up. “Tell me why I'm here, Mary.”  
  
“You're the one who got on a train for little old me.” She smiles and moves her chair to face her. Gertrude can see the vodka she was drinking. “Sounds to me like someone was excited.”  
  
Gertrude unfolds the letter and holds it in front of her.  
  
“Gertrude, darling,  could use an extra hand considering. You know I wouldn't bother you, but I doubt you're doing much these days anyway. Yours in perpetuity, Mary Keay.” She holds the letter out for Mary to take.  Mary's hands are extremely dry. When she doesn't get an answer, she rolls her eyes and Asks. “What am I doing here, Mary?”  
  
“Needed help carving Gerard up- oh, that's lovely. Love the tingles, Gertrude. You know I do.”  
  
“Where is he?” She looks like she's trying to fight it- or ride it out before she points at a door in the corner of the kitchen.  
  
Gertrude walks past her and opens it to find Mary's son hanging from the ceiling by his hands, sections of his arms scarred and dripping onto the carpet where the skin has been peeled back.  
  
She'll remember this.  
  
She could use this.  
  
“He wasn't agreeing with me- wanted to go do a normal job- we're not normal job people, you and me. You get it right?” Gertrude closes the door quietly and looks down at Mary.  
  
“Of course I do.” Mary smiles and heads back to the table.  
  
“Are you staying to help?”  
  
“Depends entirely on if you're going to open the good bottle for me.” Mary's sent into a fit of giggles while she heads into another room to get the wine. She sits down and glances out the window.  
  
No one can see into their apartment from this floor. With the boy's loud music, no one would know about the screaming. She should send an assistant over to check on if the neighbors are alive, to begin with. He's in a hopeless situation- Gerard.  
  
She does excellent work with hopeless.  
  
He seems sturdy at least, from the look she got of him he's, and if he lived this long, maybe he'll be just as useful as she wants him too.  
  
She does need someone to go to New Zealand with and with Michael's soon departure someone devoted sounds just lovely.  
  
Mary sets the wine on the table, and Gertrude smiles at her.  
  
“I could find him something at the Institute if you like.”  
  
“Oh, would you?  A little summer internship- get his head clear. I've been coddling him, I really have.” She drinks the wine that's poured into her glass and looks her acquaintance over.  
  
“What did he really do Mary?” Gertrude watches her shiver, and she always found that a curious reaction.  
  
“Burned pages.” She clicks her tongue when the words spill out. “You always know how to make a girl tell you all her secrets. I bet you're a riot at parties.”  
  
“And you're replacing them?”  
  
“Mmhm- I mean, what else am I supposed to do.”  
  
“I'm not judging.” She is. “Just curious.”  
  
“Mm- I feel like- Gertrude I feel like you're just here to belittle me. Like always.”  
  
“You love when I do, though.” Another shiver and Mary finishes her own glass.  
  
“Let's move to the bedroom, dear. He's going to be out for at least another hour.”  
  
“Just an hour?” Gertrude smiles. “Are you losing your touch, Mary?”  
  
“Oh-” There's finally some color to the woman's face. “You do keep such a busy schedule.”  
  
Gertrude stands up and smooths her dress down.  
  
“Let's see if you're still worth getting on a train for.”  
  
Mary laughs the entire way to the bed.


	2. Big Age Gaps - Gertrude/Sasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Big Age Gaps
> 
> She's not an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so out of the prompts today this is the only thing that i could come up with that feasibly works in canon and well

Artifact Storage is maybe the worst job Sasha has ever had.  
  
She's worked retail- mind- and was a gas station attendant for two years in high school. She's had shifts into 5 in the morning and got harassed on near daily basis, and she'd still take that back over fucking Artifact Storage.  
  
Her coworkers changed on a monthly basis, and Sasha hoped they were getting transferred out and not the alternative. It was probably the alternative. The only person she knew with any solid clarity was her boss who more or less ignored her and the weirdly happy guy from Archives. She'd only seen him twice but it was a few months apart, and he wasn't dead so.  
  
Maybe she should ask to transfer down to Archives.  
  
She doesn't mind reading. Reading can be fun. Organizing. Living her life without clutter. She heard the Archives break room has a Keurig too.  
  
Her desk is in a distant corner, a solid 10 feet between anything that could even be considered an artifact. She learned that the hard way.  
  
The books were the worst- tucked into the furthest corner away from her- and she had nightmares about them for months. She still does, sometimes. Other artifacts are just weird- not openly malicious as long as there's no contact.  
  
Some of them call to her- beg to be cleaned or moved into the light, and she wants nothing more than to throw them in a dumpster.    
  
There's a delivery to check through, and Bouchard hasn't found another person qualified to help her yet, so she pulls on a pair of rubber gloves, face mask, and some goggles and cuts the box open slowly. She has her notebook ready, and she jots down the time, 2:49.  
  
It looks like a larger piece of paper filled with countless aimless scribbles. No signature, no return order. Business as usual. Looking at it gives her a headache. A really sharp gnawing type of a migraine. She thinks she hears the wind.  Find one line and try to figure out where it stops only to get lost in the multitudes.  
  
“Am I interrupting?” Sasha jumps, dropping the paper back into the box in the process.  
  
“No-No- sorry.” She looks over to find that she's lost four hours. Her shift has been over for two. No one's come to get her. “Can I help you with something?” The woman is old and well dressed, and Sasha can only assume Elias was throwing another benefit upstairs, and this poor woman must have gotten lost.  
  
“Yes- I believe one of my packages got sent here by mistake?”  
  
“What?” She glances at the paper for a second- a minute- before the woman shakes her shoulder.  
  
“You seem to have my mail.” The woman says, much more pointedly.  
  
“Oh do you- Do you work here?” There's a certain coolness to the woman's face. She pulls her safety equipment off and rubs where the goggles dug into her temples. If she had to guess, she must be a temp in the library.  Or maybe Elias's back up secretary, for whenever Rosie's out sick.  
  
“I'm the head Archivist.”  
  
Oh.  
  
“Sorry-” She doesn't know why she's apologizing. “You- This?” Smooth. “This is yours?” The woman glances into the box and nods. “Right- Of course- do you need help getting it down there?” For a split second, Sasha thinks she may have insulted her, and that would have been a shame.  
  
“That would be kind of you. My assistants have left for the day- I presume most people have left for the day.”  That sounds like she's being judged, but she picks up the box and decides what's another ten minutes.  
  
If it'll get out of artifact storage, she's ready to get on her knees and-  
  
“Do you know where the Archives are?”  
  
“Roughly?” The woman offers her a smile and leads her down a hallway to the elevators. “It's a bit maze-like isn't it?”  
  
“Mm- Smirke's architecture is designed to be as inconvenient as physically possible.” It's spoken like someone talking about an old classmate. Sasha thinks she's read about Smirke, here or there but it's all surface level information.  
  
The elevator ride down is pretty quiet. She doesn't know what to ask- the Archivist is rather severe from her angle anyway.  
  
“Can- would you mind if I asked what this is?”  
  
“I would.” There's something playful in her voice.  
  
“Right well- You should be careful with it- I lost four hours.”  
  
“It's not for me. Well- It's only partially for me. It's a gift.”  
  
“Oh.” That's- she's not going to judge her possible new boss too quickly. “But what is it?”  
  
“A map.”  
  
“Oh.” She drops the subject.  
  
The woman's office is pretty cluttered- actually, all of the archives are cluttered- papers falling out of boxes, towers of research that Sasha doesn't have to open to know it's late on its returns.  
  
“Set it on my desk.” She does, glad to be rid of it. “Thank you for the assistance.”  
  
“No problem.” She looks around at more and more mess. “Actually- before I go, I was just wondering- you wouldn't need a new assistant, would you?”  
  
“Trying to get out of-”  
  
“Yes. Yeah- it's not because I'm lazy! I'm very capable- but it's-”  
  
“Artifact Storage. Not everyone is suited for the job.”  
  
“Yeah. E- Mr. Bouchard didn't tell me what I would be doing when he hired me.”  
  
“So why not quit then?” She sits in her desk and lifts the weird map out with her bare hands, laying it flat- as flat as she can on her desk.  
  
“I- The pay isn't-”  
  
“What's your name?”  
  
“Sasha.  Sasha James.”  
  
“Sasha James.” The woman smiles. “My name is Gertrude Robinson. Tell me.” And then the woman- Gertrude does... something. “Why didn't you quit yet?”  
  
“I can't bring myself too. I lie and say it's about the benefits, but it's not. I feel like I need to be here. I'm helping here. I'm doing a job no one else can do.” Sasha's hands clasped over her mouth. “Sorry- I'm so sorry I don't know why-”  
  
“And what would you do to get transferred out?”  
  
“Anything. Literally anything- What is going on-”  
  
“Shh.” Gertrude Robinson smiles. Sasha's stomach turns. “Would you get on your knees for it?”  
  
“Yes-” Her face feels like it's on fire. “Are you doing something to me?”  
  
“Just asking a few questions, Ms. James. Just asking a few questions. You don't mind do you? We can call it a preliminary assessment."

"Really?" She rubs the back of her neck- when has she started sweating. "Wait- You'd actually consider-"

"Well, as it stands I'm going to have a vacancy soon. I've found a replacement but while I'm going to be out in the field, maybe I can find another vacancy to fill."

She's not an idiot. She understands where the conversation is leading. What this woman wants her to do. And then she gives the map a passing glance.

"I'd be interested."

Gertrude Robinson smiles and pats the desk.

Sasha is more then content to get under it.


	3. Very Bad Endings - Helen/Georgie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Very Bad Endings
> 
> A tiny smile on her lips. It reaches her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is even more vague but we all know about the ecstatic completeness and sharp joy of becoming distortion so at least one of them has happy ending in like the skeevy massage kind of way

Georgie wishes Jon's information was more reliable.   
  
She really, Really wishes that Jon had told her more than the bare bones explanation before landing himself in a coma at least.   
  
“You're not the-” Fuck- what did he call it- “Desolation, are you? Because I'm not going to-”   
  
“No.” Jon never mentioned a business woman before.  Georgie's pretty sure she's seen her before, disappearing down the hall of Jon's hospital room from the corner of her eye. “I'm not Desolation.”   
  
“And you're not the End right?” The woman shakes her head and looks down between  Georgie's legs.   
  
“Is that a cat?”   
  
“Yeah.” The Admiral twists between Georgie's feet. The woman looks baffled by it- momentarily distracted from whatever she's here to do. “What you've never seen a cat before?”   
  
The woman kneels to watch Georgie's cat closer, and The Admiral doesn't seem to care. The pencil skirt the woman wears rides up. Her clothes are kind of dirty in the first place. Someone honks down the road.  
  
“Is it the Archivist's?”   
  
“Jon's?” She almost seems to recoil at the name. “No it's mine- Can you tell me what you want? I have work-”   
  
“Helen.” She says, looking up at Georgie before standing up slowly. “My name is H-” She stops abruptly before starting up again- like a wind-up doll. “My name is Helen, yes.”   
  
“You sound unsure.”   
  
“I thought I was hiding it better.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Could we talk? Out here. Or in there.” Georgie nudges her cat inside and closes the door behind her. “You are- close. To the Archivist.”   
  
“To Jon. Tell me what you are first.”   
  
“Beholding.”   
  
“You're Jon's- Patron?”   
  
“Yes.” For the first time since she's shown up, the woman, Helen, has a tiny smile on her lips. It reaches her eyes. “I'm his Patron. I'm surprised he's not told you.”   
  
“He's told me about his piece of shit boss. Who's in jail. And you don't look like an Elias Bouchard.”   
  
“Elias Bouchard is my Avatar. I'm not responsible for his actions any more then he is responsible for mine. We can't all be content with the lot we're dealt.”   
  
“Okay- Then why are you... business casual?”   
  
“Mean old Elias Bouchard fed this body to me. Months ago. I'm adjusting. To Helen.”   
  
“Helen.” She says. “Was he going to feed Jon to you too?”   
  
“I'm sure the thought crossed his mind.” She crosses her arms. “We get what is drawn to us.”   
  
“So then- What do you want with me? I'm not-”   
  
Helen sighs slowly. Her entire body drags with the motion. More cars drive by, loud music blaring off of some of them.   
  
“I have a plan to get the Archivist back. He's very good at his job.” There's something sad about her now, something weighty that Georgie doesn't understand. That she doesn't want to understand. “You've been to see him.”   
  
It's not a question.   
  
“Yeah- He didn't wake up.” So then it was her that she saw. Georgie can't help but wonder how long Helen sat there, talking to Jon. To her Archivist.   
  
“I know. But maybe, if we talked to him together.”   
  
“You want me to go to the hospital with you-you could have just called.”   
  
“I thought it best to introduce myself. In person. More believable that way. So you wouldn't think I'm a random monster abusing your good will to feed myself. You've been involved by a rather nasty one of us, and this seems like a more- A kinder approach.”   
  
“You really think this will help Jon?”   
  
“If this doesn't wake him up, I'm really unsure of what will.”   
  
Georgie heads inside and grabs her bag off of the coat rack. The Admiral's gone off somewhere, and that's alright. She fed him before the door rang anyway.   
  
“I'm good.” She walks past her and Helen steps out of her way. “Come on.” Helen follows after her, almost confused that she has to walk. “Car's in the shop, we can take the tube- do you know what that is?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Subway.”   
  
“Ah- I'd rather not encroach on the Buried- especially not now.”   
  
“The Buried, is that another one of you?” Sasha turns around to look at her just as a bus passes. From the corner of her eye she their reflection, herself and something- something that doesn't look like a person at all. “W-”   
  
And nothing at all like an Eye.  
  
“Claustrophobia and the like.” Helen doesn't seem to have noticed and if Georgie was still whole, she's pretty sure alarm sirens would be firing off in her head right now.   
  
“Hey-” She pats her pockets and unzips her bag, makes a real show of it and when she looks up, Helen hasn't moved an inch. “Uh- Forgot my phone.”   
  
“I can wait here for you.”   
  
“That would be really great, yeah.” Georgie smiles and nods her head and takes a solid step around her before bolting back to her flat. They only got three doors down, she'd be able to make it back, no worries. Even if she stumbles with the lock.   
  
If she knocked, she must need permission to get inside right? Sound logic, surely. She takes the steps in one stride, and her fingers brush against the door, chipping the dusty yellow paint she always does. She slams the door shut behind her and catches her breath.   
  
There's carpet where her hardwood floors should be and a gaudy wallpaper that's dripping... something.   
  
Her door isn't yellow.   
  
There's something moving further down the hallway- something watching her. The door behind her doesn't give, so she runs, for the first time in her life grateful for the End did to her.   
  
It feels like minutes, hours, days, months, years until she sees the thing from the reflection again.   
  
“I lied.” It- Helen tells her. It's only a vaguely feminine voice now. Echoing, loud and piercing. “I'm the Liar.”   
  
“Yeah, no, I got that.”   
  
“I do have a plan- about getting the Archivist back.”   
  
“Are you going to eat me to do it?”   
  
“That's an interesting way of phrasing it.”   
  
Georgie runs.   
  
She's fast, but then she doesn't know Helen is letting her get away or not.   
  
Time bleeds together but she isn't hungry, she isn't tired. So she just keeps running. She gets used to the burn in her lungs and the burn in her legs. Some days she sees Helen's horrific body in mirrors. Some days she sees Helen behind her. Some days she doesn't see anything at all. So she keeps running.  
  
One day she finds a door- different from all the rest. The same yellow she thought her door was. And Helen waits for her.   
  
“So.” Georgie pushes her hair back and out of her eyes.   
  
“So,” Helen says back.   
  
“The plan?”   
  
Helen's body doesn't have a mouth.   
  
It smiles anyway.   
  
“You'll become me. And I'll talk to the Archivist.”   
  
“I told you I already-”   
  
“He knew Helen Richardson. And he was... upset. The last time he saw me. As Helen Richardson.”   
  
“You think he's going to be so he'll wake up from his coma? Are you insane-”   
  
“I don't like being Helen Richardson.” Georgie shuts up. “But I think I might like being you. Helen Richardson- I- we feel calm around the Archivist. I feel like I belong when I'm near him because everything else is sharp and confusing agony.” Georgie is dimly aware of the fact that her ears are bleeding.  “He makes me feel good. Even when I was Michael. I feel like I should be you. You feel right.”   
  
“And if I say no?”   
  
“I think we're past the point of asking your opinion.” Helen/Not Helen/Liar takes a step closer. “It'll barely hurt. Open us.” Georgie glances at the door.  
  
“That sounds vaguely dirty.”   
  
“If that's what you like. I could hurt you instead. Ruin the body before I even wear you out.”   
  
“Maybe that's what I like.” She turns to run down the corridor she came through, but it's gone.   
  
Only her and Helen now.   
  
“Please.” The Liar begs. “It'll work. You won't the Archivist to wake up, don't you?”   
  
Of course, she does.   
  
“Just through the door?”   
  
The Liar has no mouth. 

It smiles.


	4. Stalking and Obsession - Daisy/Basira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Stalking/Obsession
> 
> She's her partner, she should know these things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who else was i going to write for this prompt

It starts off innocently enough.   
  
Daisy drives Basira home because it was a long day and she'd have to take the tube. She was heading in the same direction anyway, it really isn't a big deal.   
  
Her partner invites her inside, because she's an angel and Daisy agrees because some coffee wouldn't be a bad pick me up.   
  
She watches where Basira sets her keys down when they walk in.   
  
She counts the windows.   
  
She counts the locks.   
  
It's her nature- to make sure there's a way out. She's learned the hard way that it was better to be safe than sorry.   
  
Basira gives her a tour while the coffee boils.   
  
She shows Daisy where she sleeps.   
  
The bed looks comfortable for two people. Basira isn't married or dating.   
  
She's pretty sure it's a lost cause after that. 

  
-

  
She learns Basira's schedule more out of necessity then whatever this questionable behavior is.   
  
Basira always talks at the beginning of stakeouts and Daisy started picking her up and dropping her off at her flat more often.   
  
They go out to eat together sometimes, so Daisy learns what Basira likes to eat and what she doesn't like to eat. When she'll drink and what she won't.   
  
Basira complains about not getting enough sleep, so Daisy recommends pills.   
  
Basira tries them and tells her they work, and Daisy shrugs and files the information away in the back of her mind like she does everything else.   
  
It's not that big of a deal.   
  
She's her partner, she should know these things.  
  
It's life or death after all. 

  
-

  
Basira quits the force and Daisy breaks into her flat in retaliation.   
  
It's not really breaking and entering if she has her own key. Basira gave it to her after a party that dragged on too long.   
  
She heads up into the bedroom and lays in the bed, imagining what sleeping with her would be like. She seems like someone who presses close. Daisy can smell her on the pillows.   
  
She steals one of her shirts from the wash.   
  
It's a little big on her, but she sleeps in it anyway. 

  
-

  
Basira spends time with Jon.   
  
Daisy doesn't like Jonathan Sims. Or Elias Bouchard. Or Martin Blackwood or Tim Stoker or Melanie King.  She doesn't follow her inside the building, instead choosing to sit in the Starbucks across the street and pretend like this is just in her normal direction.   
  
Elias Bouchard comes in and spends over twenty pounds on a cup of something toxic and winks at her on the way out.   
  
A month later he winks at her when she's signing his paperwork for him.   
  
She breaks into Basira's apartment while Basira does research and sleeps in her bed.   
  
She's pretty sure Basira knows. 

  
-

  
Hunting is a reprieve.   
  
When she kills things, she forgets about her partner, if only for a few moments.   
  
The rush of it is intoxicating. It feels like what she should always be doing.   
  
When she drives back to tell Bouchard of her job well done, she smells like sawdust and burning plastic.   
  
Basira invites her to dinner, and everything else melts away too.   
  
Basira touches her hand when they both reach for the wine bottle and Daisy has to bite her tongue hard enough to bleed to control herself in public. 

  
-

  
When Sims disappears for a month the first time, Daisy wonders about killing Bouchard.   
  
She hates him. Hates him. Hates him.   
  
But Basira likes her new job.   
  
Daisy has nightmares, she's keyed up and only happy when she has a gun in her hands. Basira doesn't need the pills anymore.   
  
Daisy offers to drive Basira home.   
  
King watches Daisy steal one of Basira's favorite pens.   
  
She won't rat. And even if it does, what does it matter?   
  
She knows where King lives. 

  
-

  
  
Jon isn't insufferable.   
  
He's weak and stupid but he cares about Basira's safety, and she can respect that. He mentioned others, but they're all busy cannibalizing themselves for Daisy to care.   
  
She can keep Basira safe.   
  
Basira bought a new dress that week.   
  
Daisy is sure she bought it because of how her hips look in it.   
  
She stares at her all of lunch.   
  
Daisy gets off in the Institute bathroom thinking about peeling that dress off of her.   
  
Bouchard knows.   
  
He won't rat either.  
  
He needs a loyal dog. 

  
-

  
She takes Basira hunting one time, and it's like they were when they were on the force.   
  
Basira is beautiful when she's covered in dust and cotton sticks to her dress.  

She wants Basira to enjoy it as much as she does, but she's glad she got to spend time with Basira, even if it was only for a while.   
  
Basira says Daisy looks feral.   
  
It's the nicest compliment she's ever gotten. 

  
-

  
They're spending a night in the same bed before they go and kill a monster with the others.   
  
Daisy was right.   
  
Basira clings to her in her sleep.   
  
She shoves her face into Basira's hair and inhales like she's dying.   
  
She wouldn't mind dying for her.   
  
She's dreamt it countless times.   
  
She could spread Basira's legs and slot herself between her and never leave.   
  
Jon could take care of the monster, probably. 

  
-

  
Something breaks in through the window of Basira's flat.   
  
Something is so so so so so sad to find it empty.   
  
Something sleeps in her bed and steals her clothes.   
  
Something sits on the stairs and waits for Basira to come home.   
  
Something can wait for however long Something needs.   
  
Something knows Basira will come back, at 9:46 with curry from the Indian place five blocks away, but won't eat until she checks all of the news on her laptop because it's easier for her to read than her phone. Then she'll shower for six minutes, fix her hair in one, and get in bed to read twitter for another twenty minutes. She'll wear the blue nightgown because it's Thursday and set her alarm for five because she runs to the Institute on Fridays. She'll skip breakfast and make coffee in the break room. She'll say hi to King and Blackwood, and she'll sit in the library for hours until she runs back home.   
  
Her legs look phenomenal when she runs.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments are always encouraged and very very very appreciated
> 
> come [talk to me](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [ here are all the prompts btw](https://darkfemslashweek.tumblr.com/post/177693808810/dark-femslash-week-year-2)


End file.
